The egg opened the eye facing me, started a bit, blinked, then went big in the mouth. "Sirkis!" He stood and reached under the wide brown belt he wore and pulled out an advanced reserve ticket. "Sirkis!"
I nodded. "Yes, we're with the circus." I turned to Fish Face. "Stretch Dirak and the advance have done quite a job." I turned back. "Do you speak English?"
The mouth went big again as the eyes squinted. "English spoke hear."
"What's your name."
"Name are Doccor-thut, well, sirs." Doccor-thut dipped forward in the good egg's version of a bow. I smiled. "We need an interpreter." "English spoke hear." "Yes, can you come with us? We want to go to the police station."
Doccor-thut rotated a bit, went down behind the counter and came up again carrying a book. He held it up to one eye and began paging through it. "Police... police... hmmmm. Regulation of community affairs... community... community, ah... hmmmm... station... hmmm." Doccor-thut put the book down and faced an eye toward me. "You want to operate a radio?"
Fish Face placed a hand on my shoulder. "Let me give it a try." He wiggled a finger at Doccor-thut. "Come with me."
Doccor-thut pressed a button, part of the counter top slid open, and he walked through the opening. He followed Fish Face to the door, and I brought up the rear. Out in the mall, Fish Face pointed at the traffic cop. "Police."
Doccor-thut aimed an eye at Fish Face. "You want police radio?"
Fish Face shook his head. "Take us to the police's boss."
Doccor-thut went back to the book. "Boss... circular protuberance or knoblike swelling—"
Fish Face took the book. "Allow me!" He found the definition he wanted, faced the book at Doccor-thut, then pointed with his finger. "Boss. Supervisor, employer."
Doccor-thut nodded his body. "You want control unit of traffic persons. You all I take for half credit."
I reached into my pockets and found them well laundered. "Fish Face, you have any money?"
Fish Face pulled out two quarter credit pieces and held them out to Doccur-thut. Doccor-thut took them, then shook his whole body. "You no account have?"
"Account?"
The body nodded. "Credit Exchange. You no account have at Credit Exchange?"
Fish Face and I shook our heads. Doccor-thut shook his body again, then turned around. He studied the mall for a few moments, then began walking. I came up beside him. "Are we going to the control unit of traffic persons?"
Doccor-thut pointed at a box set into the wall a few steps away. "Exchange." He stopped at the box, pushed the two coins inside, then spoke to it. "Doccor-thut, temay, ooch, ooch, soog, temay, dis, ooch; simik cho." He turned from the box. "Now, control unit of traffic persons."
TWENTY-SIX
June 15th, 2144 (later)
It became clear, after much talking and numerous references to English As She Is Spoke, that traffic persons are concerned only with traffic; they are not coppers. The boss traffic person at the control unit directed Doccur-thut to take Fish Face and I to the local crime-rectification unit. The boss crime-rectification person was a tough-looking egg wearing a blue belt. Fortunately, Tuggeth-norz, as he was called, managed to scare up an interpreter at the station with a little more experience. We bid Doccor-thut a fond good-by, and laid another credit on him, which he promptly dumped into one of those exchange boxes before leaving the station. In way of parting, he held up his advance reserve ticket and said, "At sirkis, see you."
After the boss copper and his interpreter pulled their tickets and showed them to us we got down to the business at hand. "Tuggeth-norz, there are grifters working the show."
The interpreter, Goobin-stu, waddled around for a bit, then asked me. "What are 'grifters' please?"
I held out my hands. "Grifters—dips, shorters, card sharks, shell workers..." I could tell from the interpreter's expression that I wasn't getting through. "Do you know what a pickpocket is?"
Goobin-stu whipped out his own copy of English As She Is Spoke, then flipped through the pages, came to the proper page, and read. He opened his eyes wide, then studied both Fish Face and myself. Putting down the book, he turned me around and started jabbering at Tuggeth-norz, pointing at my hip pocket, more jabbering, in went his hand pulling forth my billford, more jabbering, then Goobin-stu returned my billfold. As I replaced my billfold, I turned and faced the boss crime-rectification person. Tuggeth-norz's eyes became very tiny as he clasped his arms around his middle. Then the eyes grew wider and he held up his hands and jabbered at Goobin-stu. The interpreter turned to us and said. "Is not crime."
"What?"
"Is not crime picking pockets. Tuggeth-norz says it not in law."
I scratched my head. "Do you mean your law never got around to making picking pockets a crime?"
Goobin-stu held up his hands. "Why should it? No pockets."
I looked around the station room. The Asthuians there all wore the blue belts, but no pockets. I turned back to Goobin-stu. "Well, where do you keep your money?"
"Money?" He then made a honking sound, jabbered at Tuggeth-norz, who then joined him. When they stopped honking, the interpreter shook his body. "We keep money in the Credit Exchange. If we did not, we would have to carry it in our hands." He honked again.
"Well, what about crooked games? There will be crooked games at the show."
Blank stares. Goobin-stu held up his hands. "Crooked games?"
"Games of chance, dishonest."
Goobin-stu scratched at the side of his head, shook his body, then held up his hands. "So?"
On the way back to the lot, Fish Face and I radiated gloom. Fish Face kept shaking his head. "I don't believe it; I just don't believe it." He turned toward me as we walked up to the front yard entrance. "You mean those eggs don't have a word for 'honest'?"
I nodded. "Which means that they don't have a word for 'dishonest.' " I shook my head. "Which means that anything dishonest is not a crime."
Fish Face kicked a small stone. "Which means that Boston Beau and his gang are going to make coin like they owned the mint."
I followed the stone with my eyes, then looked up to see Ten Scalps Tim's gloomy face peering from the bars of the ticket window. There was no line in front of the cage, but the lot behind the ticket wagon was crammed with honking Asthuians being directed by white-belted traffic-control persons. Latecomers were presenting advance reserved tickets at the gate and were being passed through. We nodded at the gate man, then moved onto the lot toward the sideshow. The Asthuians were listening to spielers, moving into shows, and coming out from other attractions. But, something was wrong. No one was selling any tickets. Fish Face and I walked up to Motor Mouth, the spieler for the Amazing Ozamund. He had just concluded his patter, pointed with his cane at the entrance to the show, then leaned forward on his stand as he watched the crowd of honking Asthuians pushing to get into the tent.
Motor Mouth turned away and saw Fish Face and I. "Did you ever see anything like it? They can't understand a word I'm saying, but they stand and listen. If my performance is enthusiastic enough, they go in and watch the show." He smiled and said in a lowered voice. "I don't mind telling you that my spieling is pulling in a bigger crowd for Ozzie than old Electric Lips across the way is getting for Zelda."
I looked at Madam Zelda's spieler and duly noted the smaller crowd observing Electric Lips' performance. I turned back to Motor Mouth. "Why aren't you selling tickets?"
He shrugged. "The Governor's orders. These folks don't carry money." Then he shook his head. "Mr. John says we can trust them for it."